I love your brain

My mind takes me to dark places when I think of Cole going under the knife. His surgery is just three days away and we’re all feeling the stress. Cole’s anxiety is palatable and my husband and I are both on edge.

The pre-op and admissions are done and all that’s left is arriving day ready to stay for a couple of nights. The surgery itself could take about ten hours. Those are the hours I most dread. I have this unreasonable, unfounded fear of anesthesia. I don’t worry that the actual surgical procedure will go badly. I worry that he won’t wake up from the anesthesia or that he’ll have a seizure and it will go badly. My brain just goes to that place when it comes to anesthesia.

I know, in my heart and head, that it’s all going to be fine and I know that the anesthesia is not the high-risk part of the surgery. It’s just my darkness. Maybe it’s just how I cope with my own fears and anxiety about Cole having surgery.

My fear leads me to do things. I spin my wheels. I spend a lot of time researching and planning and organizing. It’s one of my coping mechanisms. It helps me to feel like I’m contributing to the overall success of his care and healing. I’ve got him on doses of Emergen-C (to help boost his immune system for hospital and vitamin C and zinc are both helpful in healing) and bone collagen (helps to heal tissue and bone). I can’t say for certain that they’ll help but his doctors agree it won’t harm.

I’ve got aromatherapy spray to keep the hospital room smelling comfortable for him. I’ve been dosing the room every night before he sleeps so it will calm him in the hospital room. I’ve created a soothing playlist with lots of his favorite songs so if he’s feeling woozy and in and out on pain meds, he can listen to quiet music to help him relax.

At the end of the day, all of the preparing and accouterments aren’t going to make as much of an impact on him as having his parents there when he wakes up and by his side in the hospital room. All that will matter to him is that we’re near and that we’re doing every thing possible to get him through this surgery and the long healing process as comfortably as we can.

All that matters to me is that he wakes up and eventually cracks that sweet smile of his at me. My brain will quiet and the fear will sit still.